Well, here goes. This is my first story. It actually happened basically as told. I was 16 years that spring. I have added material to some of the parts where the years have erased the exact details from my memory.
Disclaimer: If you are under 18, don't even think about reading any further. If you are offended by the severe punishment of a teenage boy, do not read further.
The rest of you, this is my story:
It was 1957 and it was a warm Saturday morning and all was great with the world. My parents went out with some friends for the day and wouldn't be back until 5:30. About 9:30 my two closest friends Jack and Ken came over to hang out. We started to talk about what we were going to do and Jack said. "Let's go downtown and check out girls." How are we going to get there, Jack? We'd have to take the bus or something. I'd take forever." I said. "We could take your parents car. They're not going to be home until tonight and you know how to drive." Jack said. "Yah, but I don't have a license, just a Learners Permit, and my dad would kill me if he found out." "He'll never find out, besides we'll be very careful and no one will know. I thought you wanted some adventure!"
We continued to argue for awhile but since I was full of myself as most 16-year-old boys are, I agreed. I carefully marked where the tires were, so that I could put the car back in exactly the same place and noted the gas gauge reading so that I could put just the right amount back in. We were off on our big day and I felt very mature at the wheel of the car. I was now a man.
We went to a drive-in and scanned the girls for awhile and cruised downtown and checked out some stores. We laughed a lot and played the radio really loud with the windows down. We met some cute girls and hung out with them until they had to go. About 4:00 we headed back to my house after having a really great day. We added gas on the way back exactly to the level it was when we started. Pulling into the driveway I carefully returned the car to exactly the same spot and made sure everything was the same as it had been before we left. A final inspection said it was perfect. My friends went home and my parents returned home about 5:15. My Dad asked how I was and I said "fine". What did you guys do all day", he asked. I replied, "Oh, nothing, we just hung out."
I was very proud of myself for pulling off such a brilliant stunt until the doorbell rang. I answered the door and there she was. "Oh, no" I said to myself. It was the old spinster biddy across our driveway. She never liked my friends or me and she sneered at me as she asked to speak to my father. I turned pale and weak in the knees. "Yes, mam, I'll get him for you", I said in a shaky voice. I went to get him and disappeared into the back of the house. I heard them talking in muffled tones but I couldn't hear what they were saying. It wasn't more than a few minutes before I heard the door slam and dad bellow, "JOHN, HERE NOW". I knew I was in serious trouble. I moved quickly toward him and when I saw him he was red in the face and started yelling at me. "DID YOU TAKE MY CAR JOYRIDING, TODAY? DID YOU?" There was no point in lying now. "Aahh yess sir, but but it's perfectly fine. There's no damage or anything, really" , I stuttered. I suddenly didn't feel like a big man any more. I had totally forgotten Mrs. Knect could see me coming and going from her window. How could I have been so stupid. "HOW COULD YOU DO SUCH A STUPID AND IRRESPONSIBLE THING. I DON'T BELIEVE IT". The yelling went on for sometime without a chance for me to say anything. He finally went silent. He paused and glared at me. I felt about two feet tall. Then he said the fateful words, 'BASEMENT, NOOWW".
I knew there was no point in arguing and it would only make it worse. I went out the backdoor to the outside basement entrance and saw the old biddy, Mrs. Knect, standing on her back porch with a sadistic little smile of satisfaction on her face. Per the ritual, I took the black leather strap from the hook by the door and proceeded down the stairs. There was only one bare bulb light in the room and I turned in on. I sat on a small chair and quickly removed my shoes, socks, pants and underpants. I then cleared some tools from the old work bench and bent over the end of it to wait for him. It always went much worse for me if I wasn't prepared when he came down.
Lying there on the bench, I heard muffled talking for a long time and some shuffling around. My situation burned in my mind. I was angry with my self for being so stupid. I was angry with my friends for talking me into going. Most of all I was terrified of the beating I was about to get. It was a long time before he finally came down the stairs. As usual, he never said a word, but this time, he first opened the casement window above me (I think it was so that Mrs. Knect, next door, could hear that he was doing his duty) He stood behind me for what seem forever. Suddenly, he picked up the strap and put his strong left hand on the small of my back. I could hear the strap as it cut the air and then the sound of the leather on my backside filled my ears. I had to struggle not to cry out. The blows came fast and hard. CRACK-CRACK- CRACK-CRACK with little space in between. He gave me the longest and most severe beating of my life. I have no idea how many strokes there were. I know I yelled, screamed, twisted, squirmed and cried like a two year old until I had no more strength. Toward the end I just lay there to weak to do anything.
Finally, it was over. He threw the strap down next to me and just left. It was sometime later, when I was able to get up off the bench. I wasn't able to go to school for three days. I spent most of that time on my stomach on my bed.
When I did go back to school, I found that my father had phoned the fathers of Jack and Ken. Jack had been made to cut and prepare a peach switch from his back yard, which his father used to whip his bare butt until it was solid welts. Ken got his in the garage with a razor strop on his bare back and butt.
My father never beat me again after that.
Bye for now
Back to Issue01
Back to All the Stories